


To Live, they say, would be the Greatest Adventure

by TooFarForward



Series: Pokéwolf [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kate argent is not a good person, Making Friends, Pokemon - Freeform, Pokemon AU, Reincarnation, Sterek if you squint, character death is temporary, derek is a phantump, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:24:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9707678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooFarForward/pseuds/TooFarForward
Summary: The Pokemon AU nobody asked for: Derek is alone and exhausted and wants to go home, but the woods of route 16 have other plans. 5 years later finds an injured Fennekin seeking shelter, and a lonely Phantump that discards it's own fear to offer it.This is only the beginning of the AU that spiralled out of control and is threatening to eat my life. Stay tuned to find out what happens next!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Whelp, here it is! 
> 
> I would like to thank the ever lovely CelestialVoid for keeping me inspired throughout the course of writing, and keeping me writing despite my own desire to throw in the towel several times.   
> This story was majorly inspired by THIS POST (http://eyeburst.tumblr.com/post/151205712912/eyeburst-trevenant-it-can-control-trees-at-will), and I have done a lot of research about pokemon in the last few weeks, so I hope you all like it.

**10 Years ago – Route 16 – Kalos.**

Derek Hale was fifteen when he fell in love for the first time.

Derek Hale was fifteen when his first love nearly killed his entire family; while Derek was in love with her, she didn’t love him in return.

It really wasn’t his fault, but that didn’t stop the survivor’s guilt from tearing him apart piece by piece. If he hadn’t believed her, if he had used his head instead of being happy with the attention she gave him…

Before the fire, his family had run one of the Island Challenges in the Alola region, with his mother being the Kahuna of Akala Island. Tahlia Hale specialised in Rock type Pokémon, and was a force of nature when she had a goal in mind. Laura was learning in her footsteps, and had already become a Trial Captain in her own right, but still had quite some time before she reached her mother’s level of experience.

Derek hated that it was his fault she wouldn’t be able to learn from their mother anymore. Hated that the Island would probably fall to pieces without Tahlia Hale to guide it. How could he take his place as Trial Captain after he’d let not only his family, but the entire Island down?

The funeral had been large and widely publicised, due to the importance of the Hale family to the community, and the number of members lost: sixteen people, adults and children; immediate family and close relation.

Derek hadn’t wanted to go, couldn’t face the guilt, but Laura had yelled that he _owed_ _them that much_ , and he couldn’t disagree. She apologised, but he knew she was right, so he shrugged off her concern. Wished she didn’t feel concerned for him at all. He didn’t deserve it.

Laura tried, she really did, but she wasn’t their mother. Derek couldn’t stand the look of sadness in her eyes, and couldn’t stomach the idea that the look was for him. She had so much on her plate; she was the new Kahuna of Akala, and she still had Cora to look out for. He also couldn’t stand visiting the hospital where Peter sat, catatonic and scarred, after finally waking despite fears he wouldn’t survive at all. He hadn’t, not really.

That’s why he ran. To escape the sympathetic glances, the condolences, and the undercurrent of ‘he’s the reason they died’ that nobody said aloud, but he knew they all thought anyway.

And now in the dark of the forest of Route 16, cold and bewildered, he just wanted to go back to her and tell her he was sorry, that he loved her and he wouldn’t leave her again, he promised. Because, loath as he was to admit it, he was scared.

The darkness seemed alive, and Derek knew the forest was filled with Pokémon. He missed his own Pokémon, but they had perished in the fire alongside his family and so he was truly alone in these woods, in a region unknown to him. He doesn’t even know if he’d have taken them, had they survived. They deserved better than him, but right now he just wished for his Rowlet to be by his side, and for the comfort of the Pokéballs attached to his belt.

He pulled his jacket tighter around him. These woods weren’t his, and he regretted getting on the plane the second it took off, but now he’s here and looking for somewhere safe to spend the night, hoping he didn’t run into any wild Pokémon (half hoping that he did).

His head was a mess of guilt and fear, so when he stumbled out of the woods to find an abandoned hotel he figured it couldn’t hurt to rest there for the night. He was tired and cold and just wanted to be home, and he couldn’t protect himself from Pokémon in his current state, so resting in the dilapidated ruins seemed like the best option.

He didn’t think much of the room he had found, pushing his way past dusty furniture and broken glass to a corner of the room he could curl up in. Strangely, a candle was lit on the small, wooden table that had somehow survived the test of time. Derek didn’t question it. He was too tired, and he couldn’t even find the energy to fear the small flames of the candle, so unlike the blazing fire that claimed his family.

He drifted off slowly, wondering idly who would have bothered to give the small candle a face in a place like this, and thinking that Laura would have known the answer; she knew everything, after all.

 

**5 Years Later – Route 16 – Kalos**

The sun shone brightly as it filtered through the canopy of the trees, accompanied by the sound of Pokémon chittering and shuffling around the forest in the early morning forage for food.

The Phantump awoke slowly, curled around a clump of dead leaves and a leather jacket it had found abandoned by an unwitting trainer. The nest it had made for itself, much like those of the other Phantump, was a mix of foliage, fur, and found items. They thought nothing of it, just trying to make themselves more comfortable in the part of the forest they had chosen as their shared abode.

Derek remembered nothing of his past life; he didn’t know that, once, he was a human –a trainer, just like the ones that sometimes passed between the trees in search of Pokémon or a path out of the forest.

He didn’t know anything, anymore, and perhaps it was better that way. The Phantump chattered excitedly amongst one another as they ate their fill of pilfered snacks. Derek wasn’t quite as open as the other Pokémon around him, but he shared their food and slept in their pack, and he was as happy as a Pokémon can be, in these parts. He wasn’t alone anymore, but he didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the group, regardless of how hard they tried to include him in their games.

They enjoyed tricking the humans, these Pokémon, and Derek… Derek didn’t. He sat and watched as the others mimicked the cries of the lost children, drawing the humans away from their own packs, but he never once participated. He did, however, take what he could from their unattended bags. He wasn’t too proud to admit that he wanted to fit in, even if it wasn’t in the way the others wanted him to. He helped, but in his own way.

He tended to get distracted a lot, sorting through his nest of collected items. Unbeknownst to the Phantump, these items were his own belongings, from a life he wouldn’t remember if he tried. They felt like safety, though. Like Home, and so he kept them stashed away, out of reach of the grabby hands of other, less familiar, Pokémon.

If his thoughts often strayed to a photograph of one of those human packs, that he’d found discarded with the rest of his pilfered nesting items, then that’s between himself and the bright glow of the sun as it sets on another day in Kalos.

That’s about the time Derek’s quiet, peacefully distant life got interrupted by a loud, agonised shout. The other Phantump merely giggled, their work obviously paying off as another human was tricked into following their mimicry into the woods, but Derek had a hunch that something was _wrong_.

But the shout wasn’t _human_. Derek would know, he’d heard enough of them in his time in these woods. There was trouble afoot, and Derek couldn’t stand the thought of it coming for his friends.

Any other day, he probably would have ignored the desire to find the source of the noise, but he couldn’t, not today. He left the other’s as they grumbled unhappily around their evening meal, floating out into the darkening forest in the direction the sound had come from while staying hidden in the darkest shadows, quiet as the darkness itself.

Not too far from the human’s path, huddled and whimpering in the hollow at the base of a large tree, was another Pokémon. This one, to Derek’s sense, belonged to a human, and Derek wasn’t inclined to worry about the lack of said human right now. Because this Pokémon? This Pokémon was fire, and danger, and _fear_ , and Derek found himself snarling angrily at the shuddering lump of fur and burs before he could even _think_ about why it was so _afraid_.

Derek had seen Pokémon like this before, and had himself frightened away many of their trainers in order to protect his home and friends from the danger they presented. The Fennekin, however, didn’t startle and scurry off as Derek had thought it would. Instead, it huddled further into its hollow, shuddering violently, its quiet whimpering kicking up a notch as it tried to ward Derek off.

It was dark, and darker still in the hollow of the tree, but Derek could still use his other sense to realize that the Pokémon currently shivering in the dirt and foliage was in pain, and _scared_. That made it more dangerous, and Derek wanted it out of his forest, but he didn’t want to push it into attacking him.

Floating closer, Derek hummed quietly at the Fennekin, inquiring rather than commanding. He knew, after all, the feeling of being alone and scared, and even if the Pokémon before him was dangerous, he could at the least help it find its way home. The Fennekin shuddered harder and snarled in warning, staying the Phantump’s advance momentarily.

Derek cooed reassuringly, encouragingly, and the Fennekin, though cautious, blinked up at him in surprise. He was, quite obviously, expecting to be attacked at any moment, and Derek could sympathise with that logic. Sometimes the Pokémon of the woods, himself included, could get a little territorial –irrationally so, when their territory was trespassed by a human’s Pokémon. Human’s, you see, had a habit of fighting to _keep_ , and the Pokémon of these woods were uninterested in leaving their homes on a human’s whim.

The Fennekin smelled off, even compared to the usual scent of _human_ that radiated off its fur. Derek recognised it as poison, though he couldn’t quite place the scent; most likely from the Skorupi clan that lived in the area and didn’t appreciate curious strangers. The Fennekin was fading, and Derek made a snap decision he couldn’t bring himself to question.

He burbled at the fox Pokémon until it focused its attention on him again, and then began to gesture towards his own nesting place, quietly suggesting that the Fennekin join him. It stared at him, eyes glazed, but nodded eventually –just a small shift of its head, but a nod nonetheless. It struggled to get to its feet, and Derek quickly closed the distance as it looked more inclined to fall right back into the tree hollow.

A whimpered snarl was what he got for his troubles, but he could understand being wary of a strange Pokémon. It didn’t stop him from taking some of the weight from the already struggling Fennekin.

Slowly, very slowly, they limped their way through the forest and back to where the Phantump were gathered. To say they were displeased would be an understatement, but Derek only cooed softly in reassurance and led the exhausted Fennekin to his nest.

This way, at least, Derek could monitor the situation. The Fennekin glanced around once, wary, but fell into the pile of leaves and tattered fabric almost gratefully. It needed to be treated, but there was very little Derek could do about that, and so he watched; waiting for dawn to come and hoping that the injured Pokémon’s trainer would venture into the woods.

 

**Earlier That Day – Route 16 – Kalos**

Stiles kind of hated Allison, just a little bit.

He had been Scott’s lone Pokémon for three years, since Scott’s tenth birthday and the events that took place that lead them to each other, and while he wouldn’t admit it, he enjoyed being the focus of his trainer’s attention.

Then they’d met Allison Argent. She was beautiful, by human standards, and an incredibly lovely person, but her Pokémon drove Stiles absolutely insane. Jackson, Allison’s Axew, was by far the nastiest Pokémon Stiles had ever had the displeasure of meeting. Lydia, Allison’s Ralts, was amazing, but she acted as though Stiles didn’t exist at all, which stung far more than any kind of poison he’d encountered.

While Stiles liked being the focus of Scott’s attention, that attitude changed fairly quickly when Scott spent more and more time with Allison. Stiles _hated_ being alone, and whenever Scott and Allison decided to go out together, Stiles was put into his Pokéball for hours that felt endless. He hated it.

And that’s how he found himself in his current predicament.

 

“Aw, he thinks he’s big and scary,” the woman’s voice cooed, full of condescension. He snarled as menacingly as he could, but the woman simply smirked and made a gesture with the crossbow she was carrying. He’d attacked her once already, but got poisoned by her own Pokémon for his trouble, so he was biding his time. He could feel the poison already working through his system, so he didn’t have all that much time to bide, but he was confident he could make it a little longer.

He’d get out. Scott wouldn’t notice he was missing until after his date, so it was up to Stiles to save himself this time. Not that Scott was a bad trainer, but when Allison was involved Scott went kind of stupid; Stiles didn’t blame him, despite how much he hated being benched.

“My niece may be oblivious to the true value of Pokémon, but she sure has been helpful.” Kate, the woman’s name was; Kate Argent. She had pinched the Pokéball straight out of Scott’s bag and now Stiles had no idea where he was or how to get back to his trainer. He knew, though, that it was pertinent that he escape.

 “You’re a smart little fox, so I know you’ll be good for me if you don’t want to get hurt,” she sneered, reaching down to ruffle the fur atop his head. He snapped at her fingers, causing her to laugh meanly, pushing him away from her harshly. She walked from the room, slamming the door shut after her Pokémon, a Scolipede, had slithered out after her.

This wasn’t the first time this woman had made an unwanted appearance in his life. In fact, she was the reason he and Scott became such fast friends, as trainer and Pokémon. She had a somewhat unhealthy obsession with him, and –more specifically- his _coat_ , which seriously perturbed Scott, the few times he’d she’d let slip her motives.

This time she’d taken him right from Scott’s bag, when he was distracted with Allison in the little café they frequented while in town. Allison was trying to defeat the gym leader, and Scott wanted to support her.

And that’s another reason he had to dislike Allison. Her and this crazy woman both wore the same perfume, and the same, familial scent; but where Allison was gentle and kind to every person and Pokémon she met, Kate was dangerous and scathing. She didn’t believe Pokémon were worth much when alive, but apparently their pelts fetched a pretty price on the black market.

Stiles was smart, though, she wasn’t wrong about that. He most certainly wasn’t above using every nasty trick he could think of to get himself away from the woman. Which would have been fine, had she not taken him to some dark and dilapidated building in the middle of the woods.

Because Stiles? Well, Stiles wasn’t a huge fan of the woods. Especially not woods that were definitely haunted. Every whistle of breeze through the branches, every rustle of dead leaves in the shadows, had Stiles flinching away from the relative safety of the underbrush.

Poisoned and in pain, Stiles started sprinting through the woods as soon as he heard the woman take chase, straying far from the path in the hopes of losing her. He may have misjudged his own ability to survive the poison _and_ the adrenaline, but he’d be damned if he gave that woman exactly what she wanted.

He stopped briefly, wildly looking for some place to hide himself until the morning, and his eyes settled on a hollow at the root of a large tree. There was enough room in there for him, as long as he kept still. No room for grabby human hands, which suited the Fennekin perfectly.

He drifted, for who knows how long, until a low snarl from outside his hiding place caught what was left of his attention. And that was just his luck; he’d obviously been so desperate that he couldn’t tell the hollow he was holed up in belonged to another Pokémon, but at that moment he just didn’t care enough to leave, would be lucky if he could move at all.

He huddled further into the dirt and leaves in the hollow, whimpering softly and hoping the other Pokémon would leave him alone, not notice he was vulnerable. It didn’t leave him alone. It drew closer, making soft sounds of reassurance and enquiry, but Stiles was in no mood to deal with inquisitive wild Pokémon; he just wanted to get back to Scott, and get better. He snarled at the advance, but the Pokémon didn’t seem perturbed.

Stiles was curious himself at this point, as to what manner of creature would throw caution to the wind and approach a clearly distressed Pokémon. He himself would do no such thing, despite his curious nature; one too many avoidable injuries would have that affect. He blinked wearily into the shadows of the forest, finding it difficult to focus.

He’d never seen a Pokémon like the one floating before him. Its body was but a wisp of smoke, the centre of mass appeared to be a hollowed out tree stump. It was burbling softly and gesturing suggestively, and Stiles while Stiles was exhausted the idea of being near a Pokémon who could defend themselves –and perhaps offer their defence to him in turn- was too good to pass up.

They made their way further into the woods, Stiles listing dangerously by the time they made it to a cluster of similar Pokémon. He doesn’t remember much more about that night, too exhausted and in too much pain, but he remembers the Phantump curling around him during the night, when his shuddering grew too violent to be healthy.

Scott found him at the crack of dawn, but only with the help of the Phantump.

“Stiles, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even _see_ her, and Allison didn’t know about-” he babbled apologetically as he cradled the Fennekin in his arms, pulling an antidote out of his pack and not letting Stiles go until the bottle was empty.

“God, Stiles, I’m so sorry,” Scott cuddled him close, hiding his face –wet with tears- in the Fennekin’s fur, uncaring that it was coated in mud and leaves. Stiles reassured Scott that he was fine now, burbling animatedly before jumping down to let Scott up. Scott glanced sideways to the Phantump, hovering over its nest anxiously. Much as it was wary of Stiles, it desperately wanted to have what Stiles and his trainer had; the bond between Pokémon and trainer.

“Hey, Phantump… thanks,” Scott spoke softly, smiling warmly and moving closer to the Pokémon. That’s when he glanced down at what was in the nest: a leather jacket, worn and weathered and, for some reason, burnt at the edges; a backpack, the contents of which must be long gone; and a wallet, inside which sat a license, a few coins, a gym badge, and a photograph.

“Derek…” Scott murmured, lifting the photograph and smiling at the sight of the family it encompassed. A woman stood at the centre, her arms resting on her hips and her an eyebrow cocked in amusement. Beside her stood two men: one man shared the same blue eyes and snarky tilt to his lips, obviously a sibling, and the other man was hunched forward, laughing at the antics of the children in front of them. There were six children, all of them on the ground in various states of disarray.

The Phantump didn’t take kindly to its possessions being rifled through, and came close enough to snatch the photograph from Scott. Scott frowned, considering. He’d heard rumours of this Pokémon before, and his Pokédex all but confirmed his suspicions.

“You know… If you’d like, you could come with us, and we can help you find them,” Scott proposed, smiling reassuringly at the confused look the Phantump was giving him. “Your family probably misses you. Do you remember them?”

The Phantump shook its head, still obviously confused.

“It’s just me and Stiles on the road, and I know we only just met you but you seem really nice. You helped Stiles, and I can’t think of a better way to repay you than to help you find your family again.” Scott was smiling warmly and Stiles could tell the Phantump was considering it. He chortled excitedly waltzing up to the Phantump and offering support towards the idea. The other Pokémon was still a little wary of Stiles, but they could work with that, he was certain.

“So, Derek… What do you think? Can you stand being stuck with Stiles and me for an adventure to find your family?”

And Derek? Well, Derek was extremely curious. He _wanted_ , and it scared and excited him how much he wanted to _know_. So, against his better judgement, Derek tentatively agreed to accompany Stiles and his trainer on their adventure, in the hopes of finding what might have been _his_.

 

Will our heroes make it to Derek’s home unscathed? What will happen next? Find out in the next instalment of Pokéwolf.

 


End file.
